


the jester stole his thorny crown

by perfectly_practical



Series: one shots/extended hcs/etc [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Food, Gore, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, cuz i cant find any hanahaki fsr, i dont want to spoil it so, ya boi got issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectly_practical/pseuds/perfectly_practical
Summary: Logan refuses to believe something as vapid as a fanfiction trope could possibly translate to real life. That was a bit of an oversight.yea no yea this is shittily done and all but i felt like it
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Unrequited Logince
Series: one shots/extended hcs/etc [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004637
Kudos: 12





	the jester stole his thorny crown

Logan had never been one for something unrealistic in his fanfiction choices. Sure, he loved a bit of unrequited hurt/comfort for the soul, but he'd never stoop so low as to clicking on such fantastical ideas as a _hanahaki_ in his late-night literature.

Unless it was for research. But that was different.

When he'd first felt a prickling in his throat, he'd assumed it was his long years of repression trying to make him cry or something similarly ridiculous. Oh, _please_. And when he started retching over the sink one painful night, coughing up bloodsoaked flower petals, he was confused. But at the time, he'd assumed that it was just the mindscape working in its mysterious ways.

Then just before he actually started reading up on it, Roman walked in to the little sitting room and _smiled_ at them all. Logan could feel himself blushing, because who wouldn't at Ro's sweet grin? Five minutes later, Logan was curled up miserably in the bathroom, hands full of congealed blood and tiny rosebuds. That he'd somehow just choked up, slowly and painfully. At least they were pretty he guessed.

So, he took some notes. Drew some detailed drawings. Even went as far as summoning an x-ray for himself, which didn't work as he'd committed the stupid oversight of not focusing on his non-metaphysical-ness in his detached sort of worrying. 

After a couple of sleepness nights getting annoyed and having plates of soup left by his door, he decided to entrust the Internet. Logan did not as a rule like the internet, but he for some strange reason hadn't previously had a reason for a book on "coughing up half-formed bloody flora". It wasn't in any of his textbooks either. So he typed that into his search engine. He didn't much like the soup of hideously unrealistic fandom fodder that resulted, but clicked on an article, read it through, and promptly heaved up a load of bitty red liquid on his laptop. Which solved his not-liking-the-answer problem quite neatly, really.

The flowers were roses, when he peeled a bud open, beautiful red roses the colour of Roman's sash. He wondered whether the colour would change depending on who he loved, then realised what he'd just thought and coughed up a fully in bloom flower.

_What._

He couldn't be in love. Could sides even feel love? He shouldn't be in love! He wasn't! He had a job for Thomas, and said job did not include something as truly _pathetic_ as unrequited romance! 

Besides which, it wasn't like he believed the results of his bloody _Google search_. It wasn't like he'd been falling for Roman slowly over the years, and willfully not thinking about it. Godsakes, it wasn't like he was completely _gone_ on the fucking man.

Perhaps if he repressed on it enough, he'd be ok. He'd take care of himself for a bit. Maybe take some painkillers. Have a throat sweet. Everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine, he reminded himself three weeks later, as he ran down the halls with thorns pressing into his throat. He couldn't goddamn breathe. What the fuck was he supposed to _do_? But no. It was fine. He was imaginary. He'd be ok. It would all be ok. Logan ran, hand over his mouth, eyes puffed up, neck and shirt and fucking _fresh cleaned_ tie coated in blood and sweet-smelling petals, and for a moment it actually _felt_ ok. 

Until he walked in on his one true love and Virgil fucking snogging. 

"Oh God, sorry," he said, or he would have done, had there not been branches exploding out of his chest and roses tearing through his skin.

" _Logan?_ " said Roman, falling down, looking _horrified,_ making a funny screaming sound, but Logan, with tears streaming down his face, with blood dripping and splatting all over the floor, with roses and thorns choking and stabbing and generally making him Not Have a Good Time,

Logan

couldn't 

hear

it.

Because he'd died. 

**Author's Note:**

> btw if u do google "coughing up half-formed bloody flora" it comes up w/ a load of nhs stuff so for the purposes of fanfic you get hanahaki ok?


End file.
